


Q is for Queen

by word_processing



Category: Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: I don't know where I was going with this, Irish Mythology - Freeform, M/M, Mission Fic, Not that anyone is surprised, Q is a flirt, Queen - Freeform, Quite a few Queen songs, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2018-03-01 21:09:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2787890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/word_processing/pseuds/word_processing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Q really should have expected it to be Bond though because no one else would wait that long while Q sang ‘Killer Queen’ only to embarrass him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For the 00Q Reverse Bang. Based on infinite-mirrors comic.  
> Thank you to mistflyer-1102 for beta-ing and putting up with me.

Q was used to working alone, he was at Q-Branch at odd hours of the night as well as the normal work hours. So there were times when no one was around. Like right now, at five am on a bank holiday and when it was likely he was the only one in the building.

Which is why he was singing.

More like belting really. Theatrical and loud. Sound bouncing off the soundproof, bombproof, heatproof, and fun-proof walls of Q-Branch.

Which is also why he didn’t hear his comm switch on.

There were currently eight of the nine existing Double-Os in the field, 002 was in Medical, in a coma. Again. (Q was fairly certain that he was just faking this time, this was the third time in as many months). Of the eight in the field, four were under Q’s direction and all had gone radio silent only six hours ago. Q shouldn’t be hearing from them for another twelve hours at least.

Q really should have expected it to be Bond though because no one else would wait that long while Q sang ‘Killer Queen’ only to embarrass him.

“She’s a Killer Queen. Gunpowder, gelatine. Dynamite with a laser beam-“

“Guaranteed to blow your mind!” Bond chimed in, deep, rough voice theatrical in a way Q had never heard.

Q jumped, blushing hard. “Double-O-Seven?” he squeaked.

“Hello Q. I do hate to disrupt your performance.” At least Bond had the decency to sound guilty about it. “But I require your services.’

The man sighed, gathering his wits about it him with a sip of tea. “Alright,” he said, hoping Bond had had his fun and it would be over now. Even if his cheeks were still hot.

“I need to get into the Russian Embassy in Minsk. Can you get me in?” Bond asked and before Q could reply he adds. “You should really sing more often, you’re quite good.”

Q blushed again, sighing. “I would thank you to focus, 007. Do you have your identification with you?”

Bond assented to the question but Q could hear the smirk in his voice. He went to work, getting Bond access to the building. It took about twenty minutes once he was inside the system and at some point he must have lost himself because he found himself singing under his breath and tapping his foot.

It was Bond’s laughter that snapped him out of it. Bloody bastard.

“Well, there you are, 007. And your plane is at five tonight, whither or not you’ve completed the mission, it’s too dangerous to have you down there for long right now.”

“Are you worried about me then, Q?”

“No, I wouldn’t go as far as to say that. I’m merely following orders.”

Bond almost seemed dejected by that. Almost. Q sighed and made a few more keystrokes. “You should get going, 007. And please, try to bring back your equipment in one piece.”

“Anything for you, Quartermaster.” Bond purred and then switched the comm off again. Q was almost sad about that.

Though Bond did call back three hours later to get Q to move up his flight and to get him out of the embassy without being shot by the four teams of armed Russian guards coming after him.

>>>>

When James was happily home in London, (well, happy as he could be, there was a thin line for him when it came to happiness. After the mishap in Belarus, where he had received a bullet to the leg and a verbal beat down from Q and Eve about foreign dignitaries and being an idiot.) he escaped Medical’s evil clutches and took refuge in the locker room.

And he’ll deny this till the day he dies, but James Bond, Naval Captain and top secret agent for the Crown was singing in the shower. It was probably Q that got him on to Queen, he still smiled when he thought about the boy singing in his office over the comms.

“Oh Lord,” James sang, a deep rumbling sound. “Somebody, somebody. Can’t anybody find me….somebody to…...”

Before he could finished the line he turned off the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist, only to turn and find Q standing there. The boy was blushing, pointedly looking at James’ face with wide, owlish eyes. James had to pause as well, not expecting to see anybody there. Much less his Quartermaster.

James tied the towel around his waist and turned fully to Q, “What can I do for you, Quartermaster?” He asked and then stepped just out of sight to get dressed.

“I wanted to know if you were planning on going home for the day or if you would be willing to stick around and do some weapon testing for me.” Q said, simple and easy but James’ heard the squeak of his trainers and the swish of his trousers as he bent to get a peak of James.

The boy made a little noise, shy and appreciative, and straightened up when James turned around.

James came into sight, buttoning his jeans and giving Q a few view of his expansive, if a little maimed, chest. The boy flushed again but managed to hold his own this time. “I’d be happy to,” The agent replied, a near purr.

“Good.” It sounded like a tut, a short puff of air and sounds. Q had clearly come to his senses once again. “I’ll have R meet you in the range. I trust you’ll actually to the report this time.”

With that Q turned and walked away, James nearly pouted. “What? That’s it? Where are you going?”

“Well, you don’t need me to test weapons, do you? I’m going home to my fireplace and my movies,” the boy replied, turning.

As he left, Q finished the line, one clear note of “love” in perfect harmony with James.

The agent smiled to himself.

>>>

James was in Brazil, in the middle of a high speed chase with only a penny knife and a fucking minivan. He stomped on it; the guy he was chasing had his girlfriend by the hair in the passenger seat, likely going to kill her when they got to their destination for sleeping with James and giving away all their secrets. It wasn’t the dame’s fault, Q-Branch came up with a truth serum and it was rather effective.

James came to a split in the road, one heading to the city and the other to a small airport. Damn, he hated this, either way would do but he’s lost sight of the Range Rover.

“The airport, Bond.” Q chimed in and James cut sharply to the left.

“Where the fuck have you been?” The agent snapped, because Q has been offline for three hours and James really could have used him.

The engine purred loudly and it almost drowned out Q in James’ ear, he was surprised he wasn’t Diesel deaf by now. “I’m sorry, 007, I was arranging your evacuation. You would like to come home, wouldn’t you?”

The boy sounded distant, typing keys and interns’ conversations. James could almost hear the sounds of Q’s brain working faster than the world around him. “You’re five kilometers off, Bond, you should see the airport around this corner. Their car is stopped on the east side of the hanger.”

Everything Q said was true, not that James doubted him. He jumped out the car, his knife plunging into the first guard who came at him. James grabbed his gun before the guard dropped to the ground to bleed out on the pavement.

The agent thought he heard something over the comm, a burst of noise blocked by the gun shots James was firing off in quick succession.

“You’ve got a gun, very good 007. What happened to the okay I gave you?” Q’s noise in sardonic and bored and James was too riled up for this right now.

“The bottom of the Atlantic Ocean, Q. Is that a problem?” The agent replied, curt and hard. Q was quiet then, the meek little whine James can just barely hear is enough of an apology. He’ll have to get the boy a cupcake when he gets back.

The little noise, which James soon realized is a sound, keeps coming up in time with his bullets hitting their fleshy marks. He didn’t have time to match the tune because his target, Marco, was climbing into his plane, using Ella, the beautiful Brazilian girlfriend, as a shield. He rattled something off in Portuguese that was probably meant to be intimidating.

James rolled his eyes, mostly because he didn’t speak enough Portuguese to understand that sentence and because this guy was an idiot. It took one bullet to the shoulder to take Marco down.

It was with great satisfaction that James got this man on his knees, gun pressed to his forehead. He took a deep breath, calming his mind. The order was for 007 to kill, Marco may have been an idiot but he was also dangerous.

James took the shot.

Ella jumped, a little shriek leaving her lips as she tried to stomp the blood spatter off her shoes like a frantic cat. James was so done with this country.

He’s tense and he’s about to kiss Ella before he leaves, abandoning her to the discretion of the cleanup team when he hears it again.

“Are you ready, hey, are you ready for this? Are you hanging on the edge of your seat? Out of the doorway the bullets rip to the sound of the beat. Another one bites the dust!”

It was playing over the comm and there’s chatter, Q-Branch congratulating itself for a mission well done. James started to laugh, hearty and a little over-tired; these bloody bastards, have they been doing that this whole time?

“Well done, 007. Mission accomplished.” Q’s voice drowned out the music a little, but there was a smile on his face, one James was sure he’ll never see in person. “If you would please follow the road back to the city then your plane will be waiting for you.”

James was chuckling to himself as he got back into the car, the song turned down but still playing. “Anything you want, Q.” He replied, speeding off the runway to Rio.

>>>>

Unfortunately, James didn’t get a break. Once he was off the plane, he had to stop a terrorist cell that had popped up underground Soho. It was a easy job; storm the nest, take out all the equipment, and put down any members in the building. He left most to be arrested when MI5 came in with handcuffs and scopes, tucked in behind bulletproof vests.

James stood in the middle of the wreckage, a handful of papers and computer chips for Q to analyze. The good mood though, that calmed his heart rate to a normal pace, was gone. His hands shook, finger curled rhythmically over the trigger of his .40 Smith and Wesson. James needed to calm and this dark space that still echoed of shouts and gunfire wasn’t going to give it to him.

He pushed past the concerned and snarky MI5 agents, getting in his car and speeding off to Vauxhall. He left the car in the car park, texting Q to tell him where everything was then left this phone in the front street and went for a walk.

<<<<

Q was actually beginning to get concerned about James. After the tempestuous events in Brazil, James had been on edge. And then boy had been able to make him laugh. He didn’t even know that was possible, not a real laugh. Q had to smile at the sound, it was charming to say the least. But the mission in Soho seemed to set him off again, James had gone radio silent after Q had given the order and he was concerned.

MI5 called, said 007 had looked off his rocker. For the agent that could mean just about anything. Q stared listlessly at the other half of the cupcake one of the interns had brought him as a peace offering. Q sighed, he wanted to help, sometimes it felt like he always just wanted to help. But James was… Q didn’t know when 007 became Bond who then became James but that should probably be something to worry about.

[SMS: James Bond] Stuff is in the car park. Silver Jag, left of the stairs. -JB

He blinked, where was James then? Drop offs were never good, he might go and get his arse in trouble. Last time he did this, Q got a call from Eve that said James had gotten into a fight with some guys outside a pub and let them win.

Q knew he should go something but any trace on James’ phone led him to the car beneath the building. An intern came back with the things from the car and Q spent the afternoon into evening working on them.

It took a disapproving Eve and a weary Bill to get him out of the office. He went home, changed his clothes, and went out again. It was a normal routine for him, work was long and stressful; the very least he could do from himself to let off some steam.

There was a club in King’s Cross that catered to just about whatever his mood was. Tonight it was loud, dark, and tactile. Q held up his ID and membership card to the large man at the door and ducked into the neon lights and booming music.

Q didn’t bother with drinks, if he wanted to get drunk he would have stayed home. No, Q came to dance, to feel a body against his and lose himself in the intimacy.

It didn’t take long for him to find a partner, he’d been dancing for maybe half an hour, a few men and women against him but this one was tall and firm. He put his strong hands on Q’s hips, pulling the boy against him and letting him grind against him. Q nearly moaned, tilting his head to the side as the man nosed always the tendons until he can feel teeth and tongue on his pulse point.

He knew they can get in trouble for this, they were practically having sex on the dance floor. Q felt heat creep up his neck and need curl in the pit of his stomach. The man was hard and God was he big, Q would let himself be taken right now if he didn’t have some dignity left.

“Do you want to get out of here?” The man asked, low, lips brushing Q’s ear as he speaks.

Q nodded, eyes closed as he turns to pull the man into a kiss. They dance, lips mashing together, like that until the song ends (and Q realized it was a remixed mash-up of Queen songs) and the man takes Q’s hand to lead him out onto the dark street.

The man walked behind him, letting Q hold his hand. It wasn’t until they were hailing a cab, or Q was at least, the man had his lips against his neck and making Q quake. A taxi pulled up and Q turns, faced with a shockingly open face of 007.

The boy takes a step back, almost walking off the curb. James grabbed him, the large hand on Q’s waist again and it sent a shiver of want down his spine. James holds him and steadies him before stepping back.

There was a sad sort of defeat in the way the agent stuffed his hands in his pockets, “Quartermaster.” James’ voice was deep and Q wondered what it would sound like with Q down on his knees. He left, disappearing without a glance into the dark around the corner. Q took the cab home.

He still felt James’ hands on his hips when he came that night with three fingers buried inside himself.

>>>>>

James should probably be more concerned with the fact that he was going after a terrorist group based in Canada. Bloody Canada. Nothing happens in Canada, most Britons forgot it was an actual thing.

But Q told him to go, based on the information James brought back from the nest he’d raided and MI5's findings.

James still hated MI5.

So here he sat, in a Toronto hotel room. From his bed he was fairly certain he could make out New York State. Interesting.

James began to pace, unenviable his thoughts wandered to his Quartermaster and he wondered if this was what it was like to have a crush. He returned to the bed, taking out his laptop. It had been a month since the incident at the club and he and Q had been getting along all right.

Actually, better than all right, they were talking; not over comms or over coffee or anything, but on the phone or on Skype, and always late at night. Q would be all curled up in his bed and practically fall asleep in the middle of his sentence.

There was no new information for him, it would be the morning before he had anything to go on. Still, he called Q, craving his voice more than anything.

The boy answered, laying in bed with his glass pushed up the bridge of his nose and sleepy bats of his eyes. There was music in the background, “There goes my baby, she knows how to Rock n' roll, she drives me crazy, she gives me hot and cold fever, then she leaves me in a cool cool sweat.”

More Queen, James smiled gently. He rested against the pillows, resting the laptop on his chest. “You’re up rather late, Quartermaster.”

“You’re calling me rather late, 007.”

James hummed and watched the boy for another moment before asking. “Have I ever gotten you a present?”

Q looked puzzled, shaking his head. “You mean in general? I believe you’ve gotten your equipment back a few times. That’s all I need from you.”

James pursed his lips, a little teasingly and put his hand before his head. “No, I mean like a gift, something from a mission.”

The boy looked a little shellshocked, like the idea of getting a present was completely alien to him. “You don’t have to do that, 007.”

James smiled, “Of course I don’t have to, I want to.”

“Bond, I….”

“No, no. Tell me what you would like? Tea? A shirt? Fuzzy-dice?”

Q laughed, eyes lighting up a little and James had to smile back. Yes, this must have been what it was like to have a crush. “Surprise me, Bond. I’m sure you can come up with something.”

James nodded, watching fondly as Q yawned and rubbed his eyes. “Goodnight, Q.” He said, hanging up as Q waved sleepily and began to nod off.

The agent actually managed to sleep that night.

By morning, he had information.

The group, more like a cult, was based in Toronto. It was basically made up of teenagers (kids these days). James’ job was to find them and stop them, preferable without killing too many.

It was easy, too easy. That concerned James. Their base in Canada wasn’t much bigger than the one he’d taken out in London. Which meant they had moved because according to Q, they were fairly large and equipped.

M ordered him back to London and one uneventful flight later he was in the MI6 building, feet dangling in the pool while he caught his breath from a handful of laps.

“007?” Came a gentle voice behind him. The agent turned to find Q standing there in the dim pool room, all packed up and ready to go.

“I thought you would have been gone by now.” James replied, one catch of such an active verbal relationship being that they haven’t actually been in the same room since the club.

“I was just about to leave, I wanted to make sure you had been through the proper end of mission briefings. I want to start working on that when I get home.”

“Yes, M went through everything with me.” James said with a nod, giving him an encouraging smile. “Good luck with that, it’s a weird one.”

“Weirder than someone not dying after swallowing cyanide?” he asked, smirking a little. It made the boy feel better to joke about things, James had learned that a while ago.

“Perhaps not. Good night, Q.” James nodded and Q gave a little wave. The splash of the pool and the sound of the door slamming shut was in unison.

Not long after when James was toweling off, tired and sore from laps, his phone buzzed.

[SMS: Quartermaster] I need help. -Q

James grabbed his things immediately, starting out of the gym.

[SMS: James Bond] Where are you? -JB

[SMS: Quartermaster] Inside the Vauxhall station. -Q

[ SMS: Quartermaster] I think I just got mugged. -Q

James swore as he read the text, not bothering with his car and running to the tube station. Q was indeed there, huddled in an alcove, thankfully out of the wind and rain. He was bloody, nothing too seriously.

James stopped there in front of him, checking the boy for wounds.

“I’m fine, Bond.” Q said, his voice as even and calm as ever but he reached out his arms like a child wanting to be picked up.

James did just that. Professionalism, or whatever they were doing, be damned. Q needed help. The boy didn’t protest, curling into the solid heat of James’ chest and letting the agent tuck him into a cab.

It should probably concern Q that James knows his address of that he is comfortable enough to just take Q’s keys and let them both into his flat. But instead he was glad to have the night off.

“Did they touch you?” James asked, a little tentative as he helps Q out of his jacket and wrapped a blanket around him.

“No, no, I’m okay.” Q curled up in the corner of his couch until James went to make tea when he moved to the bed.

He finally let himself shake, quaking as he pulled the slip of paper that had been thrown at him by his attackers. An expertly drawn circle around a dot. It shouldn’t mean anything, it wouldn’t have if he hadn’t been halfway through his research.

“Q?” James asked softly, sitting next to him and handing him the cup of tea. “What is that?”

Q wanted to keep it a secret, wanted to hide it but it was no use. He exchanged the paper for the tea. “It’s an alchemy symbol, in some ancient religions is represented the Sun God. To others it was known as the Evil Eye, a sign of misfortune and injury.”

He sipped the tea, crinkling his nose like a displeased rabbit. “What is this?”

“Oh,” James said sheepishly. “It was suppose to be your gift from Canada, I had it specially blended for you.” (D’aww)

“Oh…” The boy blushed, taking another sip. “It’s not bad.”

James smiled a little to himself, looking back to the paper. “So what does it mean? Why did they came after you? You said it was a mugging.”

“I was getting to that.” Q seemed far more in his element now, though he spoke with far less speak now, like each word helped calm him. “They knocked me down and took my bag, it had everything in it, my laptop and everything you’d gotten from the nests. Then they threw that paper at me, shouted something about Balor and ran off.” He took a deep breath.

James looked at him, distracted by the boy’s eyelashes making spider like shadows on his cheeks. “What does that mean?”

“Normally I would have to do more research, but I did a semester in Ireland and spent a lot of time with their mythology. Balor of the Evil Eye was a giant with a third eye that, when opened, could wipe out anything in its sight. He was killed by his grandson due to a prophecy and did everything to stop it. Long story short, that never works and he was killed by his grandson, Lugh, his eye wiping out his own army before burning a hole in the ground that later became Loch na Súi.”

James blinked at him and Q smiled at him, embarrassed. “I had an affair with the Irish Mythology professor at Trinity in Dublin.”

“Oh…” The agent said like that was a perfectly normal thing to do. “So what does that all mean?”

“I have no idea.”

Suddenly Q stood, legs still shaking a little. “I need to go back to HQ. M should be informed.”

James stood with him, taking his tea and pushing him back down. “No, Q, you need to rest. M can be told in the morning. Just get some sleep.” He turned to return the mug to the kitchen after Q looked like he was going to agree.

“Wait!” The boy sound scared, like a little child. “Stay with me tonight?”

James turned back to him, setting the mug down and sitting next to Q on the bed and pulling the boy into his arms. “Of course.”

They laid down together, James with an arm slung over Q’s body. Their heartbeats seemed to sync instantly.

James had never slept better in his life. Something told him neither had Q.

<<<<

When Q woke up James was gone. He didn’t know why he was surprised. But that pang of disappointment felt like rocks in his gut.

He was at work though, there with him in every way, always standing in the back of the room and watching him. Q could forgive him this once.

M gave him the same look James had given him when he explained the myth.

“So what are you saying, Q?”

“I’m saying they’re a cult, sir.”

“Bloody hell.” M leaned back in his chair, scrubbing his face and looking over at Tanner who went for the brandy in the cupboard. “Alright, I’m calling the PM.”

“If I may, sir.” Q interrupted, voice commanding the action of everyone in the room. “I was thinking this morning. Balor was killed by the son of the Sun God, Cian. If you were getting revenge for the death of Balor against the “Sun God” and you were an Irish extremist, where would you go?”

It was Bill who first got what he was saying, taking out his phone quickly and shouting orders into it about locking down the Palace and Parliament. Q gave him a little smile.

“You think they’re going after Parliament?” M asked, tired and nervous.

“I think they’re young IRA extremists. So yes, I think they’re going after Parliament.”

M dismissed them, James following Q like a puppy back to Q-Branch. “What do you need from me, Q?”

Q ignored him for a moment in favor of logging into his computer. (His other computer, you didn’t really think he only had one, did you?)

“Q?”

“I need you in Ireland. Start with Sligo. That’s where the lake is. These are probably young kids; male, from ages of 18-25, smart buggers.” He explained, pausing for a moment and looking up at James. “R has your things. Try to make this quick, they’re probably already in London. We need to know exactly when they’re planning.”

James nodded, turning to leaving, orders having been received.

“Wait.”

“Yes?”

“You forgot this.”

James was confused for about half a second before Q kissed him, quick and hard. Q-Branch was silent in shock and so is James, taking a few moments before he nodded, a small smile on his lips. “See you soon, Quartermaster.”

>>>>

James was standing in the headquarters for this tween cult, the basement of an old farmhouse. Christ, kids these days.

“Q?”

“Yes, 007?”

Q was prime and proper as always and it made James smile a little.

“I fold it. They have material for a crude bomb. It’s big and messy.”

“Anything else? Where are they going with it?”

“If I had to guess, their going in the front door. Not that smart apparently.”

“Idiots.”

There was typing over the comm and James can hear more Queen just behind it.

“Is this really a time to be rocking out, Quartermaster?” He teased.

“Mind your own business, Bond and get back here.”

James laughed as he cut off the comm. Yes, this was what it was suppose to be like.

When James got back they had the boys in custody, sulking teenagers and angry college students. Q stood with Tanner sharing a cheap beer.

“Crisis averted?” James asked, arms crossed.

“Of course, they were exactly where we thought they’d be.” Tanner hummed, clinking bottles with Q and sharing a look.

“Yes well,” Q flushed, “I think I’m done for the day. I stopped the decimation of our government and was mugged in twenty-four hours, I think I could use some tea and a good book.”

“I’ll walk you home.” James offered and it wasn’t an optional activity.

Bill winked and Q crinkled his nose at him like Samantha from Bewitched, waiting for him to turn into a toad.

“Fine by me.” Q replied, trying to hide the blush.

<<<<

Somewhere between the lift and unlocking Q’s flat they were kissing. James kissed like his soul was breaking and Q kissed like the haughty genius he was.

“Shit…” Q muttered as James opened the door and the boy stumbled, only to be hauled back up by those large hands. He almost moaned at the memory. “Bedroom,” he said instead.

James didn’t need to be told twice, mouthing at Q’s neck and pressing him against every flat surface between the hallway and the bed. “Beautiful.” He muttered and it sounded like he meant it.

“Flattery is not needed.” Q replied, pushing off both their shirts and going for a kiss when James pinned his wrists to the bed.

“It’s not flattery, Q, it’s truth. Do you have any idea how much I want you? How much I care for you?” James said, eyes stupidly blue and voice heartbreakingly earnest.

“I hate you.” Q whispered, pulling out of his hold and kissing James like he needed it.

James chuckled, “What were you listening to this afternoon?” He smirked and started to sing. “Don't stop me now. I’m having such a good time, I’m having a ball.”

Q laughed, the mood suddenly lightened. “Yeah, something like that.” He kissed James again, this time it was sweeter.

James was much quicker at this and Q was naked before he could even blink. He panted from the kiss, flushed pink. “Not fair.” The boy pouted and tugged at James’ trousers, slipping a hand down his belly to wrap around the agent’s cock. James moaned, partly at Q’s little gasp of pleasure. The incident of the club did him justice, James was large. Q’s middle finger and thumb touched just barely as he stroked the other man.

“Little mink,” James moaned when Q twisted his wrist just right.

It was with another fury of limbs that James was naked as well, hard, expansive chest hovering off Q like a guardians. He claimed the boy’s lips again, wrapping his hand around the both of their cocks. Q moaned with every stroke, thrusting up into his hand.

He would have been embarrassed by how quickly he came but James followed him a few moments after.

Q had expected James to get up the next minute, most did, but James laid next to him. Actually, half on top of him and panted against his skin, nipping lightly at the pale skin there. Q sighed happily and closed his eyes, content to lay there and let the come dry on his stomach. He didn’t care. James was there.

At some point, when Q was half asleep, James got up and cleaned them both up. He laid down behind Q, pulling the boy into his arms and kissing his hair. “So I think this should be a think.”

“A thing?” Q asked.

“Yeah, a thing.”

“Alright, yeah. That sounds good.”

Q fell asleep after that but he thought he heard James singing softly to him.

In the morning, they were woken up by Q’s phone ringing. It was Eve, and at this hour it was probably Eve and Bill come to taunt him about something.

In fact, it was Eve with Bill laughing in the background.

“I called in for you this morning. Just so you know, you can have your afterglow.” She giggled like a school girl.

“Fuck you.” Q muttered sleepily, rubbing his eyes, glaring at James who was muffling his laughter in Q’s shoulder. “But thanks.”

He hung up, looking over at James. “What?”

“Your ringtone is Little Lover Boy.” He said with a giddy little smile. “Is that how you fancy yourself?”

Q hit him with a pillow and then rolled over to kiss James. “How badly do you want to find out?”

>>>>

James was off having tea with the Queen the week after the incident. Usually, in the wake of catastrophe she liked to have tea and talk about the weather. Today, she seemed intent that he find someone to ‘share his life with.’

James was about to reply, to tell her that she needed worry about him and that there may be this one boy, when his phone rang.

“Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy? Caught in a landslide, no escape from reality.” Freddie Mercury crooned throughout the room in bloody Buckingham Palace. James balked, scrambling to answer it as he apologized to a giggling Queen.

“Q? What the hell is that?” He growled, with very little heat behind it.

“You don’t like it? Too bad.” Q purred, “I need you to come back to the office, we have a problem in Belgium and I’m horny.”

“Which is the reason to come back to the office?”

“Both. Your flight is in two hours and that’s just enough time for me to ride you on my couch.”

James was already halfway to the door and making his excuses. “I’m on my way, love.”


	2. Comic by infinite-mirrors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> By infinite-mirrors


End file.
